Coping chapter 2
Title: Coping
Chapter: 2: Luke is afraid he has a burn out....
Summary: Luke is a rich man with a life he loves.....or...
Rating: some M/M moments in the next chapters
A/N: sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language.
After my shower, I walked to my walk-in-closet. I had to impress some investors today, so I chose my white linen suit, Italian ofcourse, and a brown shirt. With my blond hair, I knew I had them in my pocket the moment I would walk in my office.
I would be a bit late, they would be sitting there, impressed by my fancy furniture and my hip coffee. I knew the drill, I knew how to get the money out of their wallets, even in this economical situation. My subject was different this time, and it would make them feel good about themselves. Investing in a pediatric wing was always a hit.
My PA and good friend Jay had come up with the idea. We could use some good publicity and we needed the money fast, so he figured out this charity. I didn’t care what he came up with, as long as we collected enough money to be satisfied.
I dressed and messed up my hair a bit with gel. Women liked it, a boyish man. Men didn’t take me too seriously like this. And gay men…
I looked at my bed. The two guys who had brought me home last night were still sleeping. I hadn’t asked their names. It didn’t matter. My cleaning lady would throw them out when she arrived. She would change my bed and tonight I would mess it up again. With someone else.
It didn’t go the way I liked it. At all. I was too late, not fashionably anymore, and I had a headache. The guy who did the presentation made a few mistakes, but I don’t think they noticed. It was that doctor that they brought, who caused me my migraine. He didn’t say much, but somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He was serious, he knew what he was talking about.
And somehow I couldn’t impress him. That irritated the hell out of me. He kept looking at me with that cynical smile in his eyes that made that I exaggerated and kept talking. He kept asking me questions. And he had demands. He gave me a thump-thick report about his ideas about the wing. My employee tried to calm me afterwards, but I felt sick.
When I came home, alone, I ordered a pizza and doubted about a bottle of wine, but just in time I came to my senses. No alcohol. No guy would touch me in a way that I needed to drug myself. Although the doctor had tried.
He somehow forced me to be serious about his project. His report lay on my dinner table, for gods sake. He managed to worm himself into my life, he made that I was here, alone, reading his shit. He wanted an answer in a week. Or else…
He had nerves, the guy. He had a pale face and reddish curls. He had not been impressed by my office and appearance. He had been on his own mission today. His passion about the subject had been remarkable. He needed the facility my foundation could help build, but he wasn’t as fawning as the rest of the people who needed my money, he thought that his plans were enough to convince me.
He didn’t know me. I was the one who made the decisions. He had to change his attitude before I would even consider to think about his case.
That was what I was thinking in the afternoon, but I had finished his piece in an hour. Clear language, reasonable timeframe, fair budget. Everything looked so damn solid. I couldn’t think of a logical explanation why I would turn down his request. But I would turn him down, for sure.
That week, I had a lot of headaches. In the years before he appeared with his ambitious plans, I had handled so many business deals that I could do them with my eyes closed. My office was like an oiled machine, I had the best experts in the business and they knew what to do. My involvement was just a formality, usually.
I wished Jay had done this project himself, or one of my employees. Due to the lack of sleep, I became cranky. And when I slept, I had nightmares, from which I woke up screaming. But awake, I didn’t remember what I had been so afraid of.
Maybe I was going through a phase. Maybe this was what a burn out felt like. I had always thought that it didn’t exist, and that people who said they were overworked were sissies, but I felt sick. Not able to think, or to act. And it got worse. What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe I could ask the doctor to examine me. He was a world class neuro surgeon. Maybe he could order a CT or something. What if I had a brain tumor? Would I let him operate on me? His delicate fingers would play with my brain. I shivered thinking about it.
No, don’t be such a hypochondriac, it wasn’t that, just too little sleep with too much work. I had to hang on, it would blow over. It was a phase.
I assigned as much work to my employees as possible and went home early every day. But when I came home, I didn’t know what to do. I had brought home a few guys, but I was too dizzy to have fun with them. That was alarming, because it was what I liked to do most. If I wasn’t able to enjoy the attention of men anymore, then things got serious.
I turned on my tv and sat on my couch a lot, trying to push my increasing feeling of panic out of my system, but slowly it took over, the overwhelming fear that something was wrong with me.
I stayed up as long as possible, afraid to go to sleep, to have these wild dreams again. I watched sport and teleshopping programs till I knew this wasn’t healthy anymore. I was going to meet de brilliant surgeon tomorrow, maybe I could ask him if he wanted to help me.
Maybe it was because I felt so weak that I conceded in his plans, I don’t know. Or maybe I wanted to please him, so he would help me. Looking back, everything I did in that period seemed blurry. After our meeting with the hospital crew and the investors, everyone was excited, except me.
I stumbled to the one person in the room who was as stoical as I was. Doctor Oliver. When he shook my hand for the first time, I thought Oliver was his first name, and I remembered how weird it seemed that he was so informal. I learned quickly that there was nothing informal on him.
“Can I ask you something?”, I said, looking at him. He nodded, walking to his coat in the meantime. He was in a hurry. Maybe he had a shift in the hospital, or was on his way to his girlfriend. He didn’t have time for me. It made me feel insignificant and small.
I didn’t want to, but I got so dizzy that I fell forward. Just in time he turned around and was able to catch me, thank god. He put me back on me feet again and looked concerned. I felt so embarrassed that I didn’t look at him.
“You okay?’, he asked softly.
I nodded. “I…eh… wanted to ask you if I can make an appointment, I feel sick”. He tilted my head and looked into my eyes. His eyes were blue. But another kind of blue.
Chapter: 2: Luke is afraid he has a burn out....
Summary: Luke is a rich man with a life he loves.....or...
Rating: some M/M moments in the next chapters
A/N: sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language.
After my shower, I walked to my walk-in-closet. I had to impress some investors today, so I chose my white linen suit, Italian ofcourse, and a brown shirt. With my blond hair, I knew I had them in my pocket the moment I would walk in my office.
I would be a bit late, they would be sitting there, impressed by my fancy furniture and my hip coffee. I knew the drill, I knew how to get the money out of their wallets, even in this economical situation. My subject was different this time, and it would make them feel good about themselves. Investing in a pediatric wing was always a hit.
My PA and good friend Jay had come up with the idea. We could use some good publicity and we needed the money fast, so he figured out this charity. I didn’t care what he came up with, as long as we collected enough money to be satisfied.
I dressed and messed up my hair a bit with gel. Women liked it, a boyish man. Men didn’t take me too seriously like this. And gay men…
I looked at my bed. The two guys who had brought me home last night were still sleeping. I hadn’t asked their names. It didn’t matter. My cleaning lady would throw them out when she arrived. She would change my bed and tonight I would mess it up again. With someone else.
It didn’t go the way I liked it. At all. I was too late, not fashionably anymore, and I had a headache. The guy who did the presentation made a few mistakes, but I don’t think they noticed. It was that doctor that they brought, who caused me my migraine. He didn’t say much, but somehow he rubbed me the wrong way. He was serious, he knew what he was talking about.
And somehow I couldn’t impress him. That irritated the hell out of me. He kept looking at me with that cynical smile in his eyes that made that I exaggerated and kept talking. He kept asking me questions. And he had demands. He gave me a thump-thick report about his ideas about the wing. My employee tried to calm me afterwards, but I felt sick.
When I came home, alone, I ordered a pizza and doubted about a bottle of wine, but just in time I came to my senses. No alcohol. No guy would touch me in a way that I needed to drug myself. Although the doctor had tried.
He somehow forced me to be serious about his project. His report lay on my dinner table, for gods sake. He managed to worm himself into my life, he made that I was here, alone, reading his shit. He wanted an answer in a week. Or else…
He had nerves, the guy. He had a pale face and reddish curls. He had not been impressed by my office and appearance. He had been on his own mission today. His passion about the subject had been remarkable. He needed the facility my foundation could help build, but he wasn’t as fawning as the rest of the people who needed my money, he thought that his plans were enough to convince me.
He didn’t know me. I was the one who made the decisions. He had to change his attitude before I would even consider to think about his case.
That was what I was thinking in the afternoon, but I had finished his piece in an hour. Clear language, reasonable timeframe, fair budget. Everything looked so damn solid. I couldn’t think of a logical explanation why I would turn down his request. But I would turn him down, for sure.
That week, I had a lot of headaches. In the years before he appeared with his ambitious plans, I had handled so many business deals that I could do them with my eyes closed. My office was like an oiled machine, I had the best experts in the business and they knew what to do. My involvement was just a formality, usually.
I wished Jay had done this project himself, or one of my employees. Due to the lack of sleep, I became cranky. And when I slept, I had nightmares, from which I woke up screaming. But awake, I didn’t remember what I had been so afraid of.
Maybe I was going through a phase. Maybe this was what a burn out felt like. I had always thought that it didn’t exist, and that people who said they were overworked were sissies, but I felt sick. Not able to think, or to act. And it got worse. What the hell was wrong with me?
Maybe I could ask the doctor to examine me. He was a world class neuro surgeon. Maybe he could order a CT or something. What if I had a brain tumor? Would I let him operate on me? His delicate fingers would play with my brain. I shivered thinking about it.
No, don’t be such a hypochondriac, it wasn’t that, just too little sleep with too much work. I had to hang on, it would blow over. It was a phase.
I assigned as much work to my employees as possible and went home early every day. But when I came home, I didn’t know what to do. I had brought home a few guys, but I was too dizzy to have fun with them. That was alarming, because it was what I liked to do most. If I wasn’t able to enjoy the attention of men anymore, then things got serious.
I turned on my tv and sat on my couch a lot, trying to push my increasing feeling of panic out of my system, but slowly it took over, the overwhelming fear that something was wrong with me.
I stayed up as long as possible, afraid to go to sleep, to have these wild dreams again. I watched sport and teleshopping programs till I knew this wasn’t healthy anymore. I was going to meet de brilliant surgeon tomorrow, maybe I could ask him if he wanted to help me.
Maybe it was because I felt so weak that I conceded in his plans, I don’t know. Or maybe I wanted to please him, so he would help me. Looking back, everything I did in that period seemed blurry. After our meeting with the hospital crew and the investors, everyone was excited, except me.
I stumbled to the one person in the room who was as stoical as I was. Doctor Oliver. When he shook my hand for the first time, I thought Oliver was his first name, and I remembered how weird it seemed that he was so informal. I learned quickly that there was nothing informal on him.
“Can I ask you something?”, I said, looking at him. He nodded, walking to his coat in the meantime. He was in a hurry. Maybe he had a shift in the hospital, or was on his way to his girlfriend. He didn’t have time for me. It made me feel insignificant and small.
I didn’t want to, but I got so dizzy that I fell forward. Just in time he turned around and was able to catch me, thank god. He put me back on me feet again and looked concerned. I felt so embarrassed that I didn’t look at him.
“You okay?’, he asked softly.
I nodded. “I…eh… wanted to ask you if I can make an appointment, I feel sick”. He tilted my head and looked into my eyes. His eyes were blue. But another kind of blue.